Page 2 of Fires Creek

Present Day

As my car chugged through the town square of Fires Creek, I soaked in the abundance of greenery. People wandered through the village hand-in-hand, kids rode their bikes on the sidewalk, there were also a lot of cows.

How the hell did I end up here?

I wasn’t a country person.

Have I lost my mind?

The city I lived in was so much bigger, louder, and bustling with opportunities.

I found a job almost instantly. The years of online graphic design school, and the 4-hour commute for practical days finally paid off, I guess.

I clawed my way up the corporate ladder until I was living comfortably enough to freelance instead. That’s where the money was .

Huge corporations paid me through the roof to do menial shit, like logo design and website creation.

Being my own boss gave me the freedom to choose my clients and take on pro-bono jobs.

I’ve done quite a lot of work for not-for-profits and charity organisations that couldn’t always afford high-end design services, and I had no problem sucking big corporations dry to help the underdog.

The next few years were a blur of pub crawls, one-night stands, and whatever powder the guy I took home was buying that night. Sometimes, there was more than one. Guy that is, not powder. Although…

One night, I met a bloke in a bar – classy, I know – and ended up moving in with him after a few weeks.

Jesse proposed within a month of my arrival, and we were all but ready to walk down the aisle.

Then, after Mum died, I started drinking, broke off my engagement to that cheating sack of shit, and promptly purchased a fucking farm .

I don’t know why I’d assumed I was the kind of person who could live on a farm , let alone run a farm , but here we are.

I could hear Mum now: “River Carlisle, what’s gotten into you? Why do you always have to be so reckless?”

Then, she would kiss my nose and laugh as she recounted some old memory of her and Dad.

She’d give me shit about it, but she’d ultimately end up going along with my crazy scheme anyway.

I missed her. Mum was always my biggest supporter and cheerleader; although, I know she wished I had settled down a bit more.

I was barely 32, I had time. I just wish she did too…

The morning after my delightful phone call with Link, he’d called me to follow-up on my offer.

Something about my slurred words and the inappropriate hour of my phone call apparently made him consider that I may not have been entirely sober.

According to him I had talked his ear off, placed a ludicrous offer on the property, and promptly fallen asleep on the phone.

Definitely not my finest moment. Most people get a piercing or change their hair after a breakup.

But not me, nope. I get blind-drunk and buy a farm .

I had always been on the frugal side, invested and saved, so the outlay for the farm really didn’t set me back too much financially, thank God.

I suppose one of the perks of my job is that I made damn good money.

That didn’t mean I spent it wisely… Like the time I brought 9 different leather jackets because I couldn’t decide.

Or the espresso machine I got online that I still don’t know how to use.

Don’t even get me started on the amount of bar tabs I had covered…

I’d set up a coffee date with Link and we sat down to discuss the logistics of the settlement. He was actually surprisingly down-to-earth. I was expecting a flamboyant douche-canoe, but I was met with a humble country boy.

He explained the history of the farm, detailing how it belonged to the oldest family in Fires Creek, and how their son, Jonas, had taken over his father’s role as foreman after he passed.

All Link said was that the current owner of the property had no interest in their investment anymore and had always been a silent developer from interstate.

He didn’t elaborate on what happened to the owner or Jonas’s Dad, but I had a feeling it was a pivotal moment for the town, and maybe not the best kind.

I had sat on the corner of my purple quilt, staring blankly at the property ownership document in my hand.

I actually did it. I bought a fucking farm.

My hands trembled as my eyes trailed over the paperwork, my mind taking its time to catch-up on the series of events that had unravelled over the past few days.

I didn’t know what to expect, as I started packing up my entire life into a suitcase and prepared to leave the city behind.

I had put aside enough money to set me up for at least 6 months while I figured out staffing, settled in, and wrapped my head around what the hell I was supposed to be doing in Fires Creek.

First thing Monday, I was making an appointment with whoever I needed to and discussing my options.

For now, I wanted to settle in and introduce myself to the foreman and his assistant. My new employees?

I had just made the right-hand turn onto the winding road leading up the mountain, towards the farm , when panic struck.

What the actual fuck was I doing here? I had never even heard of Fires Creek until 6 months ago.

So, I did the only rational thing I could think of: I gulped my panic down, and parked my Mini-Cooper at the front entrance to Ashwood Manor, letting myself soak in in the beauty of the rolling hills and fresh-cut grass.

As I grabbed the now lukewarm coffees that rested in the cupholders of my car, I couldn’t help but laugh at this entire situation.

All I knew is that I was meeting some bloke called Jonas – he was the foreman, and a bit of a grouch, apparently.

Well, that’s what the real estate guy, our buddy, Link, told me.

I took a deep breath and let my feet lead the way as I made the unfamiliar walk down to the rusted shed out the back.

My eyes trailed over the looming, black clouds on the horizon.

The crisp, mountain air was delicious and clear, despite the storm rolling in from the south; I just hoped the storm held off until nightfall, it was already getting late…

Who gets drunk and buys a house? I was completely convinced that I was making an insane decision, but fuck it, I was already here. I took a final, deep breath and lifted my chin, feigning confidence as I strode towards my new life.

Well, here goes nothin’.

“Howdy, boys. Looks like you could use some company.”